


Rah Rah

by somehowunbroken



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Community: rarewomen, Gen, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porrim is feeling a bit out of sorts about her destiny in the caverns, and Latula encourages her to find her own way. Getting tattooed probably isn't what she meant, but Porrim really likes the thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rah Rah

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fivewhatfive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivewhatfive/gifts).



> Written for fivewhatfive as part of rarewomen 2013. I hope you enjoy the fic!
> 
> Thanks to camshaft22 for beta duties.

There is, you reflect, nothing wrong with grubs.

They’re quite necessary, and you will never say that they aren’t. It’s more that you hate what they represent, hate how you know your life will be nothing but grubs after another few sweeps pass by.

“You’re lucky,” Latula laments when you mention it. “I’m, like, totally clueless about what I’m going to do when I turn nine. At least you don’t gotta worry.”

“You have choices,” you stress. “You aren’t slated for a life of cleaning up grubspill and soothing overtired wigglers.”

Latula shrugs. “Don’t sound too bad to me, but my blood’s a little too blue for that.” She snorts. “Gotta figure something out, though. Ain’t like they’ll let me be Latula Pyrope, Gamer Grrl for the rest of my bloodspan.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” you press. “You won’t be able to pursue your dreams, do what you want to do?”

“Maryam,” she says, swinging her legs off of your divan and setting them on the ground, “I got me some other things to worry about. I can game in my free time. Ain’t like they’re gonna cut me up and stick my parts in jars for study.”

You and she share a glance and you nod, acceding the point to her. Kankri’s dreams are just that, dayterrors left over from wigglerhood, but there’s always been an odd ring of truth to them. It’s no secret that the images have invaded Mituna’s days as well, and since your blood carries the ring of adult authority that all trolls respond to instinctively, Latula has called upon you more than a few times to make your way to their hive. Some days you’re the only one who can soothe Mituna’s dayterrors away.

You’re glad that you can help your friend, but you hate the reasoning behind that ability.

“I’m sure that you and he will figure it out,” you say, patting Latula’s knee. “I will, of course, help in any way that I can.”

“You’re a fixed-face plush toy,” she says, smiling her razor-pointed grin at you and standing. “It’s going to be light soon. I should get back and make sure he actually makes it into the sopor.”

“That should help,” you say dryly. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head with more pity than you can actually imagine having for another troll, and heads for the door.

“Porrim?” she says, stopping at the door, and you glance her way. There’s a slight frown on her face before she continues. “You’ll figure it out too, y’know. Just. Be your own troll, rah rah?”

You can’t help but smile. “Rah rah,” you agree. “Go tend to your grubling matesprit.”

She laughs and eases out into the last of the night, and you sit up long into the day, considering what your friend has said.

-0-

There are certain behaviors associated with your blood color that, while not requirements, are heavily preferred. There is no rulebook; there is no instructor handing out guidelines. There is only history and common sense, and – well. You’ve had quite enough of both of those ruling your decisions for the past six sweeps.

“Are you sure?” Latula says, nose scrunched up so far that you can see the bottom of her lookstubs. “I mean, live the dream, but maybe live it with a little less… permanent markings.”

“Rah rah,” you remind her, sending her a smile. “I know that this is far from what you meant when you suggested that I ‘be my own troll,’ but I’ve given that some thought.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You really wanna do this, huh?”

Your fingers trace the designs you’ve drawn as you enter the marking parlor. “What better way to set myself as different from the others of my hemostatus than to so obviously care for something that isn’t grubs?”

Latula snorts. “You could just wear your hair long,” she suggests. “Have random concupiscent flings.” She waggles her eyebrows and grins widely. “Try filling two quadrants in the same bucket.”

“Latula,” you sigh, but you can’t help returning her grin. “I need no help corrupting myself. I have plenty of ideas on the subject already.”

“I’m just helping a sister out,” she says, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, after your markings are done, we should head to the docks and find you a dashing seafaring rogue for a day of debauchery and fun. You can kick off your life of dubious decisions with a real bang.”

“Never let Kankri hear you say that,” you reply as dryly as you can manage. “He’ll cull himself from an overload of outrage.”

“I like making him turn colors,” Latula says, grin sharpening. “He’s just so much fun. Wind him up and let him spin, y’know?”

You laugh as the markartist appears from the back of the shop. “This is the real reason you’ll never work in the caverns,” you tease. “You need supervision around others yourself.”

“I am a grown-ass professional,” she grumbles, but she’s still smiling at you.

“Indeed,” you say, and she hugs you close for a moment before letting go so you can work out what you want.

-0-

The markings start at your wrists and swirl up your arms, curling over your chest nubs and arcing down your back. They’re a shade of gray that’s darker than your skin, and once they heal and the jade fades from them, they’ll be exactly what you wanted.

“Rad,” Latula offers. “Ain’t gonna lose you in the crowds at the docks, that’s for sure.”

“Not today,” the markartist says sternly, urging you to sit as she wraps you in sterile fabric. “Well, you can go to the docks, but not to show off your markings. They need some time to heal.”

Latula drops into a chair and puts the back of her hand against her forehead. “My plans,” she moans. “You’re always wrecking my plans, Maryam. Why you gotta do me like that?”

You reach out to pat her shoulder sympathetically. “We can plot out how to tell Kankri instead,” you offer.

Latula is up in an instant. She lets her shades slide down her nose as she grins at you, and there’s no way you could miss the shine in her lookstubs. “Okay, complaint taken back one hundred percent, promise. You gotta let me use some really creative language. You just gotta.”

“We’ll plan it out word for word,” you promise as the markartist finishes with the bandages. She hands you a pouch full of ointments to use on the markings, and you dig out a hefty amount of caegars to pay for it all. Latula whistles at the amount you pay, but you shrug and bump her shoulder as you walk out the door.

“I am my own troll,” you say. “Thank you for the advice, Latula.”

She bumps right back into you. “Anytime, sister. I’m glad to see the doom and gloom lift a little, y’know?” She waves her hands around her head and makes a face. “Ain’t a good look for you, Maryam, I can’t lie about that.”

You laugh as you walk down the street. “And the look I’ve chosen instead?”

“You’ll rock it,” Latula says without a second’s pause. “Gotta design yourself some new threads to show ‘em off, but I figure you’ve already got that planned out for when the bandages come off.”

“I’ve given it some thought,” you reply, mind drifting to the dress you’ve sketched in the margins of other designs, the sweeping skirt and narrow straps and jade accents. “I’ll have it ready in a few days’ time.”

“You go, girl,” Latula says, grinning. “Rah rah, you rock.”

“I am trying,” you reply, linking your arm with hers as you head for your hivestems. The bandages peek out of the ends of your sleeves, and you smile. You’ve definitely made a start.

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose the idea of Porrim and Latula as moirails before the game isn't a popular headcanon, heh, but it's definitely one of mine. :)


End file.
